


You Can't Keep Wings A Secret

by robindrake93



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Does Not Like Magic, Anal Sex, M/M, Post-The Dream Thieves, Ronan Lynch Has Feelings, Ronan Lynch Has Wings, Self-Mutilation, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings that he can't seem to get rid of.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	You Can't Keep Wings A Secret

**Author's Note:**

> When I first thought of Ronan dreaming up wings for himself, I thought "oh cool! something that no one has done before!" And I began to write it. But then I read Maggie's short story, _Opal_ (late to the party, I know). There, tucked among the pages, was one throwaway line about Ronan dreaming himself a pair of wings by the pond. And that was it. It was deeply, _deeply_ disappointing that the concept hadn't been further explored and that it was negated to nothing more than one line. 
> 
> So anyway, here's my take on it. This story takes place before _Opal_ and after _The Dream Thieves_.
> 
> If you don't like the font color, click "Hide Creator's Style" at the top and it'll revert to black. Don't reupload/repost my fics.

The wings were just another secret that Ronan could add to the list. This was what he told himself repeatedly as they moved on their own and knocked things off his dresser. Ronan was a believer in the habit of repetition. If he prayed enough, if he did enough penance, if he drank enough - then he would be saved. He just had to be enough, do enough, want enough and things would slot into place. 

The only person Ronan lied to was himself. 

The secret of his newly made wings was not destined to be one for long. For one, Ronan had limited control over the wings. His muscles felt different and his brain just wasn’t accustomed to his body having new appendages. If Ronan concentrated very hard, he could draw one wing in so that it rested flush against his back but the second he lost focus, it would spring out again. 

Chainsaw was very little help. She found Ronan’s wings to be very offensive for reasons beyond him. The raven flew around the room, dive-bombing Ronan and trying to pull out his new feathers. “Kerah!” 

Ronan waved an arm. “Stop it!” A feeling like the hair on the back of his neck rising spread throughout his wings. He twisted around to see that the feathers were puffed up. “Look at what you did,” he scolded Chainsaw. 

Chainsaw screeched at him again. At this rate she was going to attract attention. 

There was a knock at Ronan’s door as though the other occupants at Monmouth were summoned by Ronan’s desire to remain alone. “Ronan, not to be rude, but could you shut that bird up?” Gansey’s voice came through the door. He sounded like he hadn’t slept much. 

Ronan stood up. His center of balance was way off now that he had the extra weight. With one grand sweep, one of the wings knocked everything off the dresser that hadn’t already been pushed to the floor. Ronan cursed the wings and Chainsaw in one breath. 

Chainsaw said something in a way that Ronan took to be rude. She didn’t settle down at all now that Ronan was on his feet. Feathers drifted around them. 

Ronan couldn’t tell if they were from her or him. He turned and whacked a wing against the wall. Ronan growled with annoyance. Of all the stupid things he’d ever brought back, why did it have to be wings? Part of him would have preferred to deal with another night terror. At least those weren’t attached to him. 

“Ronan, is everything okay in there?” Gansey sounded a different kind of tired now. The tired that came with thinking his best friend was suicidal. Even though things had been explained to Gansey, he still sometimes had the look in his eye that told Ronan he was watching him. It was a look of worry and mistrust that Gansey wasn’t quite able to discard so easily. 

Noah appeared suddenly, standing only inches in front of Ronan. His eye sockets were so sunken it looked like he didn’t have eyeballs anymore. This was becoming a regular occurance for Noah. “Oh!” He exclaimed at the sight of Ronan’s wings. His hand reached out and brushed Ronan’s wings but he was so insubstantial that the touch was like a breath of air. 

“Is Noah there with you?” Gansey’s voice came through the door again. Ronan could easily picture him with his forehead pressed to the photocopied speeding tickets, eyes closed and expression grim. Hoping that Ronan was good. 

Ronan was rarely at a place he would call good. He didn’t know what to say so he just moved past - nearly through - Noah and opened the door. 

Chainsaw swept out of the bedroom and into the main room. She circled the room before landing on the windowsill and eyeing the three of them. 

Gansey watched her flight path, a furrow in his brow, until she settled. Then he turned back to Ronan. His eyes became so wide it was comical. His jaw dropped. “Oh dear lord,” Gansey whispered. If he was religious, he would have crossed himself at the sight of Ronan. He lifted his hand as though he was going to touch the wings, then remembered his good upbringing and put his hands behind his back. “I have questions.”

“I don’t have answers,” Ronan warned. He threw his hands up in a hopeless gesture. The wings extended and went through a cold patch that Ronan suspected was Noah. 

Gansey pursed his lips as he stared at Ronan’s wings. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to stay home from school today.” 

Ronan stared back. His expression conveyed the ‘ _no shit_ ’ that he was feeling. “I need to get rid of them.”

Gansey nodded. “Of course you do. Do you have any ideas?”

Only two ideas came to mind. Ronan could dream the wings away. Or he could cut them away. His wings twitched at the thought of cutting them. If he could feel cold, feel his feathers being plucked out, feel himself knocking objects over, then he would definitely fucking feel it if he tried to cut the wings off. As far as he could see, Ronan would have to dream them away. The problem was that he never meant to dream them - or bring the wings back - in the first place. Rather than explain any of this, Ronan merely shrugged. He watched Chainsaw over Gansey’s shoulder.

Chainsaw was acquainting herself with Gansey’s mint plant by tearing the leaves off it. 

Ronan promised himself that he would buy Gansey a new one if it came to it. 

Gansey kept up a steady stream of chatter that seemed mostly to be directed to himself. He gestured for Ronan to come out into the wider space of the main room. Once Ronan obeyed the command, Gansey walked circles around him. His hands were gentle when he touched the wings.

His touch, though gentle, still made Ronan’s wings twitch. Ronan’s brain didn’t know what to do with the new nerves lighting up. The boy himself didn’t know how to feel about it either. He was torn between discomfort and arousal. This was not an unusual state of being for Ronan to be in considering how often he lay with dogs. One dog in particular came to mind and Ronan felt sudden dread with the realization that he would eventually be hunted down like a rabbit in a warren. 

“We should get you in the sunlight. I think there’s something here,” Gansey said. He moved away from Ronan without looking to see if Ronan would follow. It was guaranteed that Ronan would follow. When they were both in the weed infested parking lot, Gansey walked around Ronan again. There was a lot of movement behind Ronan, which came in the form of Gansey dodging wayward wings. “Can you get these under control?” 

Ronan did his best to control them. If he couldn’t draw the wings in, then he could at least try to keep them still. The good news was that the sunlight on his wings felt incredible. Warmth seeped into his new flesh and pleasantly heated the delicate bones within. Ronan wanted to stay in the sunlight forever. 

Gansey touched a wing again. His fingers traced lightly over the feathers and he gave a thoughtful hum. “They aren’t solid black like I thought.” 

Ronan shivered from his head to his toes, which curled in his sneakers. He didn’t much care what color his wings were; he was more interested in the way his body responded to the touches. Was it because Gansey was touching him or would he have this reaction if anyone touched him? Ronan thought of Adam’s fingers running over the wings and his jeans got a little bit tighter.

“In the sunlight they’re an ashy gray. But there is black on them. Your tattoo extends to your wings. Fascinating.” Gansey walked around to Ronan’s front. He looked at the underside of Ronan’s wings then he stroked them. 

Ronan and his wings both jerked away. His erection pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He felt his face warm with embarrassment and arousal. He and Gansey locked eyes. Ronan didn’t look away first. He willed Gansey not to look down.

Gansey’s attention went right back to Ronan’s wings. “I won’t do that again.” He tried to smile but they’d spooked each other. “As inconvenient as they are, your wings are fascinating.” Gansey licked his lips.

Ronan followed the motion of Gansey’s tongue with his eyes. He tore his gaze away to the clear blue sky. The sky was safer to look at. It didn’t inspire wildness within him. 

“We should call Adam.” 

Ronan didn’t want to think about Adam at the moment. That was going to be a whole other round of touching because Ronan didn’t think Adam would be able to keep his hands to himself any more than Gansey or Noah had. If Adam touched him, Ronan wasn’t sure he would be able to continue to draw breath. 

It was out of Ronan’s hands. Gansey was already on the phone, summoning Adam from whatever shithole he’d found himself in this time and back into their world of magic. He paced as he spoke, only occasionally looking at Ronan. Every word that came out of Gansey’s mouth was coded speak and hedged at the problem of the day. Eventually Gansey hung up. “He’ll be here soon. I caught him at a good time.” 

Neither of them mentioned the bad times that they had caught Adam. 

They spoke of nothing while they waited to Adam to arrive. There was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said or that couldn’t wait until the fourth member of their party arrived. Gansey did not try to touch Ronan’s wings again though he did stand behind him to examine the tattoo-like markings on Ronan’s wings. 

Ronan focused on the control of the wings. There were only very specific circumstances in which Ronan enjoyed being out of control and it was not now. He was extremely careful not to hit Gansey with the wings and for the most part he had great success in that area. His wings only sometimes grazed Gansey. His wings weren’t the only thing he had mostly under control by the time Adam pulled up in his piece of shit car.

The car was an eyesore. It made Ronan cringe. He desperately wanted to buy Adam a new one but he knew that it would never be allowed. Adam was too proud to allow anyone to spend money on him. Ronan didn’t really understand but he obeyed those rules. Mostly. 

The car was an eyesore but Adam was cold water on a hot day. He was lovely and liable to drown Ronan. When he got out of the car, Adam did not make a beeline for Ronan. For a long while, he simply stared at Ronan and the wings. His face twisted up like he didn’t like what he was seeing. That expression was what reminded Ronan that Adam did not actually like the supernatural. He was a tagalong to their magical experience on the ley lines of Henrietta because he liked being with _them_ and not because he had any interest in the supernatural. It took years before Adam looked Ronan in the eye. 

Ronan felt that he was being judged and was not passing. He glared at Adam, dared him to say anything though the only real consequence would be an icy silence. Adam was not the boy that Ronan liked to see bloodied and bruised. His wings puffed up and extended again. 

Adam cocked his head to the side. He finally came around the car and approached. When he stopped it was beside Gansey. There was tension in the line of his shoulders and the set of his brow. “How do we get rid of them?” 

Though he felt no love for his wings, Ronan was cut to the quick with those words. It went to show that Adam did not like everything about Ronan and that the wings were a Problem. His wings tucked into his back on their own, the first time they were docile things. Ronan wasn’t as happy about that as he felt he should have been. In answer to the question, Ronan shrugged again. His gaze landed on the cracked asphalt beneath his shoes because it was easier to look at that then to see the disapproval in Adam’s eyes. 

Gansey gave Adam the official tour of Ronan’s wings. He pointed out the black markings that were an extension of Ronan’s tattoo on the tops of the wings. He explained that the wings had fully mature flight feathers so theoretically, Ronan could survive a jump off a building. That was not Gansey’s analogy but Ronan was in a sour mood. Everything that Gansey had noticed about Ronan’s wings - including his control over them - was pointed out to Adam as one might point out the details of a painting. 

Adam took all of this in silence. He did not try to touch Ronan’s wings at all. That was its own type of torture. After the tour and examination of Ronan’s wings, Adam stopped in front of him. They stood face to face. “Why did you bring them back?” 

Ronan shook his head. 

Adam waited; eyes issuing a challenge, demanding an answer.

“I can’t control it, Parrish,” Ronan spat. 

Adam flinched. Just barely, more of a twitch. But the primal fear showed in his eyes for just a moment before rationality kicked in and reminded him that Ronan _never ever_ hurt Adam. 

Regret washed over him in a wave. It was a spot that had grown sore but that wasn’t a reason to take it out on anyone but himself. Still, Ronan wasn’t one to use his words to apologize. He would find a way to make it up to Adam later. Somehow. 

Gansey didn’t miss the exchange but he was, as always, quick to smooth things over between them. “Do you think you can fly?”

Ronan immediately shook his head no. He couldn’t control his erections, he couldn’t control his dreams, he really couldn’t control his wings. If he tried to fly then he would definitely break something in the resulting fall. 

Adam looked at his watch. “I have to get to work.” He left without saying goodbye. 

Gansey and Ronan were left to stare after the shitty car. Gansey put his hands on his hips. “I thought he would be more excited.”

“He still doesn’t like magic,” Ronan deadpanned. He suddenly knew that insomnia would sink it’s claws into him tonight and that he wouldn’t sleep. It was as devastating as it was relieving. 

“I want to photograph your wings while the light is still good.” Gansey left Ronan to get the expensive camera he used for documenting Glendower things. When he came back, he began to snap pictures. The camera clicked repeatedly while Gansey documented this experience. There would be no pretending that this was a bad dream. 

They went back inside as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Gansey talked of getting the photos developed and who he trusted to do that without spreading news of Ronan’s state of being. He did not invite Ronan to go with him, which suited Ronan just fine. 

Ronan was beginning to realize that getting into a car - let alone driving - would be next to impossible. Maybe if he had better control of the wings he could ride passenger. But what was he going to do in public? He couldn’t just waltz into Nino’s with these huge wings on his back. Ronan would be trapped at Monmouth - and in the forest - until he could reverse what he’d done. 

This seemed to cross Gansey’s mind as well because he said, “I’ll go grocery shopping while I’m out.” Even though they normally went together. 

Ronan could only nod and be left behind. After Gansey left, Ronan looked around Monmouth. His temporary home. It felt like the walls were closing in around him, trapping him in a cage of familiarity and necessity. Ronan could barely breathe in the wake of being forced to stay here. He couldn’t leave. No school, no grocery shopping. Couldn’t even go for a drive, which was the most criminal of all. A beast prowled the streets and he wouldn’t stop until he found Ronan. The beast would come here, to Gansey’s sanctuary. 

Chainsaw landed on Ronan’s shoulder. She dug her talons into his skin to let him know that she was still annoyed with his wings. “Kerah!” 

Ronan lifted a finger to stroke down her back. He stared out the window at his BMW in the parking lot. A familiar itch was building within him, the coals of desire burning brighter. Ronan did his best to snuff out the sparks before they turned into full blown flames. He was housebound. He couldn’t leave. The knowledge was despairing but Ronan knew what it would lead to and that thrilled him. 

—-

Ronan ignored the inevitable text messages. He told himself that it was because he didn’t want to be provoked into going out and tempting fate. In his heart of hearts, Ronan knew this to be a lie. Silence was the most useful tool in his armory. His absence was a lure. Ronan just had to wait for inevitably to take over.

—-

Dreaming did not get rid of the wings. They stayed in his dreams no matter how Ronan tried to bargain and cut them away. All that was left was Plan B. 

—-

Plan B was a bloody and private affair. Ronan couldn’t stand the thought of dragging his friends into something so grisly and awful. It was one thing to bury a body together; it was another to ask your friends to help you mutilate yourself. 

Gansey and Noah found him in the kitchen/bathroom on his knees. There was one set of wings on the floor and another growing painfully from his back. There was blood and feathers everywhere. 

Ronan had never felt a pain like that. He was so deep into the rabbit hole of pain that he didn’t care that they saw him crying. The exquisite pain hadn’t been worth it in the slightest. An hour after cutting off the wings, he had fully grown a replacement pair. 

Growing the replacements had taken so much out of Ronan physically that his gums bled from the beginnings of scurvy. His joints ached and his stomach was a hollow, fanged thing. The only reason Ronan didn’t wind up in the hospital was because they didn’t know how to explain the wings.

For a few days after the execution of Plan B, Ronan slept in Gansey’s bed. It was the closest bed they could get him to. Though Gansey didn’t say it, he wanted Ronan close. They shared the bed and even Noah laid down with them while he was there. Vitamins were forced down his throat and Gansey administered several shots of things he said would help Ronan get his strength back. Gansey mother-henned Ronan by feeding him orange slices, fresh meat, and a lot of broccoli. 

Ronan allowed himself to be pampered for a few days. The truth was, he scared himself. It went without saying that he scared Gansey too. 

Noah didn’t say anything explicitly and he didn’t insist on feeding Ronan, but he snuggled up in Ronan’s arms and held him tight. It was clear that he had thought Ronan was going to die. Again. 

—-

They didn’t know what to do with Ronan now that it seemed like the wings were there to stay. 

Ronan took the opportunity to quietly drop out of school. He had Noah pick up the paperwork for him, since neither Gansey nor Adam would help him with dropping out of school. More than once, Adam had called him a loser for even bringing it up. It was one of many things they didn’t see eye to eye on. 

Gansey was disappointed but he knew that Ronan had money. Money went a long way towards being able to do whatever you wanted. Adam, who had been poor his entire life, didn’t realize or didn’t care. 

Adam didn’t come around Monmouth very often. He said it was because of work and school. 

Ronan wasn’t sure he entirely believed that. 

Gansey’s focus briefly shifted from Glendower to the case of Ronan’s wings. He wanted to learn more about dreaming and what made Ronan able to take things from his. He began to spend a lot of time on the phone and then one day he announced he was leaving on a trip. “I’ll be back in a week. I think I’ve got a lead on something that can help.” Gansey made sure that the fridge was stocked before he left. 

The text messages didn’t stop coming. The tone of them changed over time as playfulness turned to anger turned to concern. Ronan read them all and he waited in silence. 

—-

Three nights after Gansey flew to another country for his dream inquiry, Ronan walked from Monmouth to 300 Fox Way. As he walked up onto the porch, he heard running footsteps. The door opened before he could knock.

Blue stood there with pink cheeks and her hair a mess. She grabbed Ronan by his belt - he didn’t wear shirts anymore - and yanked him into the house with surprising strength for such a little creature. 

Ronan wondered what that would look like to the neighbors. 

Blue shoved his wings out of her way and closed the door behind him. When he was safe from prying eyes, Blue looked him up and down. There was no surprise in her eyes; whether one of the boys told her or the psychics she lived with, Blue already knew about Ronan’s wings. “You couldn’t have chosen something less conspicuous?” 

“Like what?” He asked, mostly feigning his annoyance. Blue had grown on Ronan even as she stole the hearts of both Gansey and Adam. 

Blue smoothed her skirt. She wore colorful leggings beneath it that were just a touch transparent. Gansey would like the outfit. Ronan thought it was very colorful. “A tail?” 

A tail would have been easier to hide but Ronan didn’t want to bring back extra body parts at all. “I’m a _raven_ boy,” Ronan said eventually.

Blue hooked her arm through his. “Yes you are,” she agreed in a way that made it sound like an insult. They went into the living room. 

“Hello, snake,” Calla looked up at Ronan from her burrito. 

Ronan nodded in greeting. The psychics made him uncomfortable with how much they knew. He felt that he had no secrets with them. 

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re hunting.” 

Blue looked at him sharply. 

Ronan didn’t know what she was talking about. 

“Waiting for your prey to come within reach so you can ambush him.” She looked amused now. “More ravenous than ravenish.” As though to cement this, Calla took a bite of her food. 

Ronan’s wings unfurled as though they were going to prove her wrong. _Do these look like they belong on a snake?_ She wasn’t wrong about one thing. Ronan was ravenous. His desire was a hunger that heated his blood and howled to be satisfied. He wondered, suddenly, why he had left his nest to come here. Monmouth was only a trap if Ronan was there to bait it. 

A glass of water was thrust into his hand. “You look thirsty,” Blue said firmly. She moved again, this time to shove Ronan upstairs with a palm between his wings. 

Ronan nearly dropped the glass. His feet obeyed Blue’s command that he walk upstairs. They wound up in her bedroom. The room was as chaotic and colorful and organized as Blue herself. Ronan drank the water, set the empty glass down, then fell onto her bed. 

“Make yourself at home,” Blue chided. She sat down with him. “They look so soft. Can I touch them?”

Ronan grunted in a way that could be taken as a yes or a no. He was curious about whether her touch would ignite the same feelings within him. 

Blue did not touch him gently like Gansey had. Her touch was firm and sure. She wasn’t afraid of hurting him, Ronan realized. Her touch was pleasant but in the same way that being pet was pleasant. He wasn’t getting an erection but he might fall asleep if she kept stroking his wings like that. “It’s cool that your markings are your tattoo.” 

Ronan hummed. His eyelids slid closed. “Adam doesn’t like them.”

Blue huffed. She didn’t seem surprised about that either. “Does it matter to you that he doesn’t like them?”

Ronan didn’t want to say what he actually felt out loud. He buried his face in his arm and subsequently into her pillow. It smelled very feminine and clean and very much like Blue. 

“I don’t think Adam likes you any less because you have wings,” Blue said as though Ronan had actually replied. She pinched the tops of his wings. “How do you shower with these?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Gross!” 

“I use a washcloth, idiot!” Ronan concentrated and one of his wings smacked Blue in the face. He was getting better at controlling them. 

Blue pretended to spit out feathers. She swatted at Ronan’s wings. “So you’re basically taking sponge baths?” 

Ronan hummed. He’d tried to take a shower exactly one time and that had ended with water everywhere and it had taken hours for Ronan’s wings to dry out even with a blow dryer. Not keen on repeating that experience, Ronan settled for the long and slow process of cleaning himself with a washcloth. He scrubbed the initial layer of grime off with plain water, then repeated the scrub with soap. He finished by scrubbing a third time with a fresh washcloth to get the soap off. Sometimes Ronan watched Chainsaw roll in the dirt and wished that he could do something so simple. 

Another psychic appeared at Blue’s door. Ronan thought her name might be Jimi. “Blue, your boy needs to fly back to his nest.” 

Ronan pushed himself into a sitting position. He hadn’t brought anything over and he hadn’t taken off his shoes so he was ready for the walk back. 

“What’s wrong?” Blue asked. She stood up with Ronan. 

“He’s expecting company, Blue,” Jimi answered. She put a hand on Blue’s shoulder to stop her from going after Ronan. “The kind of company he doesn’t want you there for.” 

Ronan neither confirmed nor denied this. He made his way through the house of women and left the same way he came in. The walk was long and frustrating because Ronan actually had someplace to be, with someone expecting him. It seemed to take twice as long to walk back as it had to walk to 300 Fox Way. 

When Ronan made it to Monmouth, he was hot and tired. The wings were heavy and it was a long walk. To make matters worse, Ronan didn’t see the white Mitsubishi in the parking lot. The only car there was his own BMW. Ronan went to his car and laid on his stomach against the cool metal hood. Maybe he would sleep out here tonight. As far as he knew, he was the scariest thing around so he wasn’t worried about being bothered.

Which was stupid, of course. There was a beast prowling who was as scary as Ronan. Sometimes moreso. The thing about Joseph Kavinsky was that he could be quiet when he wanted to. His footsteps rarely made any noise. So Ronan didn’t hear Kavinsky walk up and wasn’t aware of his presence until the barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of his head.

“What the fuck,” Ronan spat.

“What the fuck,” Kavinsky echoed. The gun was pulled back. 

Ronan thwacked Kavinsky with his wings. He pushed himself up and turned on his heel. Kavinsky was always good for a fight but even though his blood sang, Ronan didn’t particularly want a fight. 

Kavinsky’s pupils were drug-dilated. He had a large black feather in his hair that likely came from Ronan’s wing. The gun was tucked into his waistband again. “I don’t have a wing fetish,” Kavinsky licked his lips. “But these could grow on me.”

Ronan wanted to kiss him. He refused to make the first move, though. If he did, it felt like he would be losing something; though he couldn’t say what. They were so close, nearly chest to chest, and it would be so easy to just catch those lips with his. 

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Kavinsky’s hands twitched the way they did when he was high. “I thought maybe you and Three Dicks got hitched,” Kavinsky said. He spilled his insecurity out like blood from a festering wound. 

No matter how many times that he denied a romantic or sexual relationship with Gansey, Kavinsky never believed him. It was only Gansey who threatened Kavinsky. Never Adam or Noah and Ronan often wondered how much they really showed up on Kavinsky’s radar. The only person that Ronan was with was Kavinsky. But Ronan couldn’t put a name to their relationship and Kavinsky needed validation. It was a no-win situation in which they both suffered. Ronan shrugged. He wasn’t hiding from Kavinsky. 

Kavinsky’s black eyes seemed to absorb what little light there was. They were pools of tar and they took no prisoners. His mouth was a cruel line of sharp teeth. Whatever he said next would start a fight. 

Ronan cut him off before he said something designed to hurt them both, “Gansey isn’t here.”

Kavinsky’s face lit up at the news. His worry melted away like ice in the heat. The tension vanished from his shoulders and he leaned just a little closer to Ronan. His eyes were the black velvet of a moonless night. Every ounce of Kavinsky said that he read between Ronan’s lines and was pleased with what he heard there. “Well I guess I didn’t need to park so far away, then.” The reason Ronan hadn’t seen the Mitsubishi was because Kavinsky was actually trying to be stealthy. Parked somewhere else and walked to Monmouth.

Ronan slipped past Kavinsky and into the hulking building. The bottom floor didn’t have any lights but that hardly mattered to Ronan. He knew where to go. He heard Kavinsky following him. 

Kavinsky didn’t jump Ronan’s bones the moment they were inside. Instead he walked around the loft. He sniffed the mint plant. He glanced at one of Gansey’s books on Glendower, opened the cover, then decided it wasn’t worth his time. He looked into the kitchen/bathroom. He walked through the model of Henrietta. He admired the speeding tickets on Ronan’s door. Only once Kavinsky was satisfied, did he return to Ronan. 

Ronan sat on Gansey’s unmade bed. He watched Kavinsky with some worry about his behavior. It proved to be unfounded. When Kavinsky came to him, Ronan parted his knees for Kavinsky to stand between. 

“Let’s see those wings in the light,” Kavinsky said. “On your stomach, sweetheart.” 

Ronan briefly thought of denying it. This was Gansey’s bed. It smelled like him. It was his intimate space. In the end, Ronan drew his legs up and moved backwards towards the center of the bed. He flipped over onto his stomach and grabbed a pillow to hang onto. Ronan had the feeling he would need it. 

Kavinsky crawled up over him. He straddled Ronan. He didn’t start out touching the wings like Ronan had expected. Both of his hands curled around the base where the wings met Ronan’s back. His touch was exploratory. Occasionally he made pleased noises of surprise. 

Ronan would never admit it but Kavinsky sounded a lot like Gansey. “Are you geeking out on me?” 

“I totally am,” Kavinsky admitted. His fingers dug into the muscle. It felt something like a massage except Kavinsky wasn’t doing it for Ronan’s pleasure. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Ro.” 

Ronan peeked at Kavinsky over his shoulder. “You could give yourself wings.”

Kavinsky snorted. “Not really my thing, Ronan.” His hands slid up, following the marginal coverts - and yes, Ronan knew the anatomy of his own wings, thank you very much - down to the tips of Ronan’s primary feathers. “So soft,” Kavinsky whispered. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the topside of Ronan’s wings. 

Now that Kavinsky was touching the wings, Ronan’s body was freaking out again. By freaking out, he meant getting incredibly turned on. Probably. It was still hard to tell how it felt when someone touched Ronan’s wings because they were so sensitive. It felt good to have Kavinsky touch him but it also felt like too much, like he was going to shatter and burst into flame at the same time. Ronan shifted his hips, tried to find some sort of relief for the hard on trapped in his jeans. 

Kavinsky was the master of reading Ronan’s body language. Ronan’s predicament didn’t get past him. He laughed to himself, low and dark. “You don’t know what to do with yourself when someone touches your wings, do you, sweetheart?” His tone was full of mock-pity. Kavinsky touched the soft downy feathers on the underside of Ronan’s wings. He ran his fingers through them. 

Ronan shivered beneath him. He hid his face in Gansey’s pillow, which didn’t help the arousal that curled through him like liquid fire. They were doing this in Gansey’s bed. It was the ultimate sacrilegious act. Ronan couldn’t wait to defile the most intimate of Gansey’s spaces. His hips pushed down into the mattress. 

Kavinsky grinded against him. He let out a soft moan. “Alright. Let's ditch these clothes.” Kavinsky pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away. He gave a couple of short thrusts against Ronan’s ass. Then he pulled back to wiggle out of his jeans. When he was naked, Kavinsky returned to Ronan and hooked his fingers in the waistband of Ronan’s jeans. He tugged them down and off. 

_My dick is touching Gansey’s sheets,_ Ronan thought wildly. It was unholy. It was delicious. Gansey’s sheets were soft and silky against his skin. Ronan whined as he rocked his hips. 

Kavinsky was on him against in a second. He smoothed his hands up Ronan’s thighs to his ass and parted his cheeks. “Feeling impatient?” Kavinsky purred. With his teeth, he tore open a small packet. 

Then there was cold-wet being poured directly on Ronan’s hole. His breath hitched and his cock twitched. Precum left a wet spot on his belly. He waited with baited breath to see what Kavinsky would do. It was always a surprise with him. 

There was no additional foreplay - if touching Ronan’s wings counted as foreplay - or prep. Kavinsky tore open another small packet of lube to coat his cock and then the fat head was pressed against Ronan’s entrance. With his wet hand, he slapped Ronan’s ass. The sound echoed in the large building. Kavinsky laughed. Then he pushed into Ronan’s body. 

Even after a month, Ronan’s body didn’t offer much resistance. It may have had something to do with how furiously he’d been jacking off lately. Ronan arched his back, pushed against Kavinsky to take everything he could. His arms shook. 

Kavinsky eased in until his balls were flush with Ronan’s. He let out a sigh like a junkie getting a hit after going without for too long. His fingers were still a bit sticky when he ran them over Ronan’s wings. His touch wasn’t light, wasn’t exploratory. Kavinsky touched Ronan with purpose, found the clusters of nerves that just made Ronan’s brain turn to mush. 

Ronan’s entire body shook. Even his wings trembled. Between Kavinsky’s cock brushing up directly against Ronan’s prostate and his fingers working the nerve endings in Ronan’s wings, Ronan wasn’t sure that he would last for more than a few minutes. He shifted onto his knees - kept his face pressed to Gansey’s pillow - and began to fuck himself on Kavinsky’s cock. The sweet-burn slide of his cock was ecstasy. 

Kavinsky picked up Ronan’s rhythm. He fucked into him with short, hard thrusts. The sound of their skin slapping echoed. There was no hiding what they were doing (and that was enough to confirm in Ronan’s mind that Kavinsky was never allowed here while Gansey was in the building). His grip on Ronan’s wings went from firm to nearly painful. 

Ronan flexed his wings to escape the pain-pleasure of Kavinsky’s grip. 

“Sorry,” Kavinsky muttered as he let go. He smoothed the ruffled feathers. His hands moved to Ronan’s hips and he gripped the bones tight because he knew that it felt good. Kavinsky pulled Ronan up just a little more, adjusted his angle, and then changed the pace to long, fast thrusts. 

Kavinsky fucked him so good that the moans were being forced from Ronan’s throat. Ronan was distantly aware that he was drooling onto Gansey’s pillow. He wedged a hand between his legs and stroked his leaking cock with jerky movements. It wasn’t the fastest that Ronan had ever cum but it was close and before he knew it, Ronan was spilling over his own hand. His body clenched around Kavinsky’s cock. 

Kavinsky shuddered behind him. He didn’t stop his relentless pace, still pounded into Ronan while he chased his orgasm. He doubled over Ronan and kissed the space between Ronan’s wings. Then he was cumming, moaning against his skin. His cock twitched inside of Ronan as he filled him. Kavinsky stayed there for a moment, just breathed in the smell of sex clinging to them. Then he slowly pushed himself up and eased out of Ronan.

Ronan whimpered at the sensation. He felt stretched and used and it was delicious. He sank down so that he was stretched out on the bed again and gave a content sigh. 

Kavinsky lay next to him on his back, one leg thrown over Ronan’s legs. His eyes were closed and there was a smile on his face. He actually looked happy for once. 

For a few moments they basked in the afterglow of good sex, of getting a fix that they both deperately needed. Ronan ignored the feeling of cum dripping out of him and between his thighs. Maybe other people found it gross but he kind of liked the feeling. He threw out a hand until he found Kavinsky’s hand and laced their fingers together. It occured to Ronan that if he didn’t want Kavinsky to get the impression that they were a couple then he shouldn’t do things like hold his hand after mindblowing sex. 

Kavinsky squeezed Ronan’s hand. Then he sat up. “Why don’t you undream them?” Kavinsky asked. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from Ronan’s wings, running his hands through them over and over again. Again, his touch was different from Gansey and Blue. When he touched Ronan, it was with reverence. 

“I tried.” 

Kavinsky grimaced with sympathy. Behind that expression, though, he looked thoughtful. It had taken Ronan a long time to realize that Kavinsky liked challenges and puzzles of all kinds. He liked to be the smartest one in the room, even if he was the only one who knew it. 

“And then I cut them off,” Ronan added. He did it partly to be honest but also because he wanted to see how Kavinsky reacted to that information. 

The look of horror was quickly twisted into a sympathetic expression. Kavinsky brought one hand to his mouth. “Oh sweetheart,” his voice laced with pity, “tell me you didn’t.”

Ronan locked eyes with Kavinsky and let his silence be the answer. 

“If you’d told me what was going on with you, I could have told you that wouldn’t work,” Kavinsky scolded him. His hand drifted back to card over Ronan’s feathers. 

Ronan blinked. How would Kavinsky know? And more importantly, even if Kavinsky did know, Ronan wouldn’t have believed him. It was another aspect of their Thing that they should work on but probably wouldn’t. 

Kavinsky sighed. He sat up and took his lighter out of his pocket. He held up his arm and flicked the lighter on. His skin quickly turned red and then it blistered. The smell was awful. Kavinsky held the lighter there, grimacing through the pain. “Watch,” Kavinsky growled through his gritted teeth.

Ronan’s hands went cold while watching Kavinsky mutilate himself. He wanted to stop it. He wanted to beg for Kavinsky to just stop hurting himself, please, for once. The smell was what really got to him, though. It was the same - though less pungent - as the smell at the Fourth of July party. It made Ronan angry and sick to his stomach and a whole host of other negative emotions. But Ronan was ordered to watch and so he didn’t lift a finger to stop what was happening. 

Only when he burned past skin and got to the muscle, did Kavinsky stop. He tossed the lighter among the sheets. “Keep watching.” As though Ronan had a hope of looking away. It happened slowly but the muscle repaired itself and the skin grew back over it like nothing had happened. In a matter of minutes, he was completely healed. 

Now Ronan was beyond obeying. He ran his fingertips over the unblemished spot on Kavinsky’s forearm. There was nothing there. No wound. Was it a trick? Ronan glanced up at Kavinsky’s face. There was sweat on his forehead. His pupils were narrow pinpricks. No, he had really burned himself. 

“Dreams don’t die, Ronan,” Kavinsky said as though that explained anything. 

“The night terror.” 

“A dream killed by another dream,” Kavinsky countered. He showed Ronan the gun. It was something out of a cartoon; cheesy chrome and glowing lights. 

As Ronan looked at it, he realized that if Kavinsky shot him with this then he would die. Die for real. He was half dream, after all. 

Kavinsky must have read it on his face. He tossed the dream gun away, cupped Ronan’s face with both hands. “I would _never_.” 

Ronan nodded because it was all he could do. They weren’t looking to kill each other. That was a line not to be crossed; ever. 

Kavinsky lost some of his intensity. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over Ronan’s cheek. “This isn’t what I expected when I came over.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” Ronan replied. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. 

Kavinsky laughed softly. He leaned down and lightly kissed Ronan’s forehead. “Keep our relationship spicy?” 

Ronan hummed agreement. It was moments like this that made Ronan keep going back to Kavinsky. No matter what his friends and family said about Kavinsky, he genuinely cared and he could be soft when he wanted to be. Kavinsky was good for everything that Ronan wanted. “Did I dream you?” 

Another laugh. “You didn’t have that honor.” Kavinsky sounded smug about the question though. “Why? Am I your dream boy?” 

Ronan opened his eyes. “Yeah.” The honesty in his own answer took even Ronan by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say but now it was out there. Ronan couldn’t take it back. Looking at Kavinsky’s face, Ronan wasn’t entirely sure he _wanted_ to take it back. 

Kavinsky was an open book to Ronan constantly. He broadcasted his emotions loudly, through body language and voice. There was only one time when Kavinsky was unknown and that wasn’t a time either of them liked to think about. Yet compared to his normal state of projection, Kavinsky was currently vivisected. The shock of what Ronan admitted meant he wasn’t able to hide any of what he felt. His longing tore at Ronan’s skin like barbs. His fear coiled around Ronan’s lungs. His hope was a knife in Ronan’s chest. The pure, unfiltered love was poison in his veins. Kavinsky exposed himself with that revelation and he desperately tried to piece the screen between what was shown and what was true back together.

Ronan lowered his eyes. It was too much to see. He thought his heart may have stopped beating. A dream could kill a dream. Ronan thought wildly for something to say to make things go back to how they were but nothing came to mind. Because now he knew the depths of Kavinsky’s feelings. Once something was known it couldn’t be unknown.

Kavinsky blushed in a way that Ronan had never seen. As though he were embarrassed and shy to be with Ronan. He didn’t say a word though his mouth opened several times like he was going to.

Ronan had dug this awkward hole and he should probably get them out of it yet he was mentally frozen. There was nothing to say that would undo what Ronan had said without tearing them apart entirely. So Ronan turned his face and kissed the palm of Kavinsky’s hand. Perhaps it was an apology or a plea or an affirmation. Perhaps it was all three at once. 

The kiss broke Kavinsky out of his trance. His fingers twitched. He slowly pulled his hands back. There was a look of rising panic on his face. Normally Kavinsky was very much a fighter but now it looked like his flight instincts were kicking in.

Ronan moved faster. He tackled Kavinsky, pinned him to the bed. Normally Kavinsky might have been able to get away but with the wings, Ronan outweighed him considerably. 

Kavinsky was twisted beneath him from the escape attempt he’d just failed at. He struggled for a moment before going limp beneath Ronan. His face stayed very firmly in the sheets, where he didn’t have to look at Ronan. “Let me go,” he said into the sheets. 

Ronan lowered his face to kiss Kavinsky’s bare shoulder. “Stay,” he mouthed against Kavinsky’s skin. Ronan trailed kisses along the knobs of Kavinsky’s spine. Every bone stuck out. He gave voice to the command, the plea, “stay.” 

Kavinsky squirmed and closed his eyes tight. 

Ronan kissed the back of Kavinsky’s neck. “Stay.” 

Kavinsky whined in the back of his throat. 

Ronan kissed the side of Kavinsky’s neck, along the curve of his shoulder. “Stay.” 

Kavinsky clenched the sheets with both hands. 

Ronan kissed Kavinsky’s soft cheek and the hard bone of his jaw. His voice was a whisper, “stay.” 

Kavinsky whimpered through parted lips. He squirmed again but Ronan had him pinned good. His eyes were still closed when he whispered, “okay.” 

Ronan kissed Kavinsky, then. A proper kiss on the mouth. It was sweet like sugar and tender and just a touch desperate. He didn’t release his hold on Kavinsky, wasn’t completely sure that K wouldn’t bolt the moment he could.

Kavinsky broke the kiss first. He gasped when their lips parted, breathed in shallow breaths of air. Ronan’s weight on him and the awkward twist of his body kept him from taking deep breaths. His eyes were open now and he watched Ronan from the corner of one. 

Something about the look in Kavinsky’s eye made Ronan sure that he wouldn’t try to leave. Ronan retreated. He sat back on the opposite side of the bed.

Kavinsky didn’t move. He lay twisted up like a dog that had just lost a fight for dominance. His chest rose and fell. 

Ronan watched and waited. He didn’t expect Kavinsky to actually stay in that one spot. All he meant was that K stay with him for just a while longer. 

Kavinsky slowly sat up and untwisted. He regarded Ronan through hooded lids. “I can get rid of your wings.” From his pocket, he pulled out a familiar green pill. Kavinsky popped it into his mouth and swallowed before Ronan could stop him. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull. He fell back onto the mattress in an unconscious slump. 

Ronan checked his pulse. The fact that there was none at first didn’t worry him too much. Dying was a side effect. He ran his hand through Kavinsky’s hair. Without the normal gel to spike it, it was soft against his fingers. Ronan tucked a lock behind Kavinsky’s ear. He checked K’s pulse again. This time it was there. The only person to hear him sigh with relief was Chainsaw. 

Chainsaw perched on the back of Gansey’s desk chair and eyed Kavinsky with interest.

“You can’t eat him,” Ronan told her. “He isn’t dead yet.” That in and of itself brought up an interesting, awful topic. Could Kavinsky even die? Ronan smooth his palm over Kavinsky’s unblemished, unscarred skin. It looked - and felt - just like it did before Kavinsky’s suicide-by-fire attempt. 

Kavinsky made an entirely new skin for himself and then he brought it back. Cabeswater hadn’t worked properly for weeks after that. It was the first time ever that Ronan didn’t care. K was back and he was healed. That was the basics, anyway. Kavinsky had told Ronan that there was more to it than just making a new skin but the details of repairing the damage to himself got muddled. Ronan wasn’t an idiot but when it came to the sciences, Kavinsky was miles ahead. 

A laser pointer appeared on the bed beside Kavinsky. 

Ronan didn’t touch it but he did wonder at it. 

Several moments later, Kavinsky was back. He pushed himself into a sitting position. There was a haunted look in his eye. That was a new thing. Kavinsky didn’t particularly enjoy dreaming anymore but he wouldn’t tell Ronan why. “Gimme a minute and I’ll get those babies off for you. Guaranteed not to grow back.” 

Ronan slid his hand into Kavinsky’s. His skin was hot to the touch. They didn’t dream together anymore but Ronan suspected that Kavinsky dreamed of fire. 

Kavinsky squeezed Ronan’s hand. He closed his eyes. He took several measured breaths. 

Their hands became sweaty quickly. Ronan took his back and got up. He got Kavinsky a glass of cold water and held it out to him.

Kavinsky took the glass and downed it in two gulps. 

Ronan plucked the glass from his hand and refilled it. He brought it back to Kavinsky.

This time K drank it slower. He sipped instead of gulped. When the glass was empty, he set it on the floor. “Thanks.” Kavinsky didn’t quite meet Ronan’s eye. He clapped his hands. “We should do this on the floor unless you want to explain to Dick why his sheets are ruined.” He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans. 

The sheets already needed to be washed before Gansey got back but Ronan didn’t point that out. He got up and found an empty section of floor that they could use. 

Kavinsky dragged the desk chair to the spot. He maneuvered Ronan so that he was sitting backwards on it. “So the bad news is that this is going to hurt like a motherfucker. And it’s gonna fuck up your tattoo. The good news is that you can fix the tattoo in your dreams.” He twirled the laser pointer.

Ronan wasn’t sure he was ready for this. The pain from sawing them off was still vivid in his mind. And Gansey was looking for something to fix this. Ronan twisted his neck to look at Kavinsky. “K…” 

Kavinsky ran his free hand the length of Ronan’s wing. For a moment he looked sad to be destroying the wings. “I’ve got you, Ro.” He gently pushed on Ronan’s cheek so that he was facing forward again. “Hold still,” he said in the tone he used before he did a line of cocaine off Ronan’s body. The tone that meant moving would come with very bad consequences. 

Ronan held still. He even managed to keep his wings still. He looked at a spot on the wall and tried to clear his mind. 

Kavinsky started with the right wing. The burn as Kavinsky seared off the wing was agony. There was a thump as the wing fell to the floor after one clean cut. 

Ronan ground his teeth together. He closed his eyes tight. It was liquid fire down his spine, hell in his mind. He wanted to change his mind. He wanted to die. Ronan could smell his own burnt flesh. 

Kavinsky immediately started talking. He made crooning noises and spoke in Bulgarian. 

Ronan had no idea what he was saying. He didn’t care. He gripped the back of the chair so hard that the wood spintered. If he got splinters in his hands he didn’t feel them. 

Kavinsky gripped the left wing tightly to keep it still. Then he cut it off too. A quick motion, a single cut. His dream weapon was very effective for something that looked like a laser pointer. The other wing thumped to the ground. “Done!” He said. “Done. You’re done. That’s it. It’s over. Never gonna have to do that again.” 

Ronan was frozen in hell. He had sawed his own wings off. He should have been able to handle a quick burn. That was the thing about burns, though. They lingered. Nothing about them felt quick. 

“Ronan, sweetheart, you gotta unclench your jaw before you break your teeth.” Kavinsky’s voice cut through the haze but only just. “Fuck. Shoulda given you something to bite.” 

Ronan felt his jaws being forced open. He didn’t clench them again but only because they wouldn’t stop chattering. One minute, Ronan was in hell, and the next his back was freezing. His skin goosebumped. His eyes flew open in surprise. 

Kavinsky had placed a cold cloth on Ronan’s open wounds. It wouldn’t stay cold for long though. “If you give me just a minute, love, I’ll get you something for that.” To himself Kavinsky muttered, “Didn’t think I’d need painkillers when I came over here.” 

Ronan heard the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground. He twisted around to look but movement brought agony. “K?” 

No answer. 

Ronan waited. Every second was a minute, every minute was an hour. He breathed through the pain. The loft smelled awful. They would need to open a window and air it out before Gansey got home. Ronan waited. He drifted. The cloth was losing its chill quickly. The heat was uncomfortable to say the very least. 

There was a gasp from the floor behind him. He heard Kavinsky crawl and stumble towards him. The cloth was yanked away. Kavinsky jabbed a needle into Ronan’s skin near his spine. That probably wasn’t a medically sound decision to make but they weren’t making medically sound decisions tonight. “There. Give that about thirty seconds.” Kavinsky took a few deep breaths like he was winded. 

Until the shot kicked in, Ronan was single-minded. But once it did - and it was as fast as Kavinsky said it would be - all of his pain went away. He could move without it hurting. He wasn’t on fire anymore though he could still feel the heat. Ronan twisted around to look at Kavinsky. 

There was sweat on his forehead and a haunted, hunted look in his eye. He was doubled over, looking at the floor, breathing hard. 

Ronan never knew if he should intrude on these moments. He resoutly did not look at his severed wings laying on the floor between them. “K, you alright?”

Kavinsky waved a hand. “Fine.” He took a final deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he straightened up. “Dreaming isn’t like it used to be.” He looked down at the wings. “I’m just gonna. I’ll be back.” Kavinsky used a different lighter than the one from his demonstration to take Ronan’s severed wings and burn them in the parking lot. He didn’t ask if Ronan wanted to help or watch. He just scooped them up and left. 

Ronan found his phone. He hit the number for Gansey’s cell. 

Gansey answered on the first ring. “Ronan? Is everything okay? It’s almost midnight there.” 

Ronan hadn’t noticed the time. He just knew that he wanted Gansey back home. “The wings are gone.” He moved to the windows and began to open them. It didn’t smell much better outside. 

Gansey made a surprised noise. “You figured it out? Good. Well, I suppose there’s no reason for me to stay any longer.” Ronan heard the sound of typing. “I booked the next flight home. I’ll be home by noon tomorrow.” 

“I’ll see you,” Ronan leaned against the desk and resoutly did not look out the window. From the corner of his eye, he saw orange flames. Ronan hung up after that. 

When Kavinsky came back, he smelled faintly of burnt feathers and cooked meat. 

Ronan tried not to think too hard about that. He pulled Kavinsky into his arms and nuzzled his neck. If he concentrated, he could smell pure Kavinsky underneath the unpleasant burnt smell. He pretended not to notice that Kavinsky’s hands trembled. “I called Gansey. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.” 

Kavinsky made a displeased noise. He clung to Ronan tighter, as though Gansey was about to walk in the door and pry them apart. 

Ronan wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye but he couldn’t let Kavinsky stay the night. And he couldn’t let Kavinsky back into Gansey’s bed because the sheets were in the wash. It didn’t cross his mind to invite Kavinsky into his own bed. “You smell awful.” 

“And you’re such a romantic.” Ronan could hear the eyeroll. 

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” Even with the shot, Ronan’s back felt like it was on fire and technically it had been burned. But he didn’t want to go to sleep just yet because that meant saying goodbye until the next time they met. 

“Sure.” Kavinsky was out of his jeans before they got to the kitchen/bathroom. He smiled at Ronan when he caught him looking. 

Ronan shed his jeans near the fridge. He got into the shower first and turned the water on. It was cooler than he normally liked but the cold felt good on his sore back. 

Kavinsky didn’t complain about the temperature. Though he never outright complained about it, he didn’t handle heat very well these days. Kavinsky leaned against the shower wall and wrapped his arms around Ronan’s neck to drag him down for a kiss. 

It didn’t get more heated than that. They kissed until they were out of breath. And then kissed some more. It was heaven, bliss, the sweetest of dreams. Ronan kissed Kavinsky’s jaw, down his neck and along his shoulder. He bared his throat for Kavinsky to trail kisses down it. 

When the water turned to ice, they mutually agreed to get out without words. They toweled off and put on clothes. Ronan still went shirtless. Ronan kissed Kavinsky while he tugged on his underwear, while he pulled up his jeans. He stole kisses while Kavinsky put on his shirt and searched the floor for the shit that had been in his pockets. Ronan made a general nuisance of himself. He didn’t know how else to say that he was grateful. 

Kavinsky took the affection with good grace. He kissed Ronan back, sometimes laughing against his lips. Getting dressed turned into a twenty minute affair because he paused to kiss Ronan back, to drag him back in for another kiss once they parted. It was a thank you and a you’re welcome. But it was also them getting their fix. Ronan had ghosted Kavinsky for nearly a month. It was longer than either of them liked. 

But finally they had clothes on and the kissing had to stop. Without speaking of it, they’d both agreed that it was time for Kavinsky to leave. Ronan walked him to the stairs. He squeezed his hand. 

Kavinsky squeezed Ronan’s hand back. He ran a hand through his hair. Then he started down the stairs. Kavinsky paused on the stairs and turned to look up at him. “Hey Ro? Don’t be such a fucking stranger.” _I missed you._

Ronan nodded. “Okay.” _I missed you too._ Ronan watched Kavinsky leave and then he closed the door. He looked at the little green pill that had been left on the desk. Ronan picked it up and went to Gansey’s bed. He swallowed the pill dry. 

In his dreams he fixed his burnt flesh and the tattoo. When he woke up with the sun streaming in his face, he was good as new. Ronan got out of Gansey’s bed. There was work to be done. 

—-

Ronan was not hanging out in the parking lot of Monmouth because he was excited to see Gansey again after a week long absence. That’s what he would have told someone had anyone asked. He leaned against his BMW and watched Chainsaw chase after some bugs. He did not perk up when he heard the familiar engine of the Pig. 

Gansey parked beside him, taking care not to run over Chainsaw. He got out of the Pig and went to the backseat for his suitcase. “You really did find a way to get rid of them.” There was something like wonder in his voice. “My trip wasn’t entirely useless, though. I did learn some interesting things that you might want to know but we can discuss that later.” Gansey came to a stop beside Ronan. “How did you do it?” 

“Only a dream can kill another dream,” Ronan replied vaguely. 

Gansey nodded as though this made perfect sense to him. Maybe it did. He’d learned something, after all. He picked up his suitcase again and led the way into Monmouth. Gansey walked up the stairs and opened the door. He stopped in the doorway. He took in the loft then looked at Ronan. “Did you clean?”

“You left me alone for forever and I haven’t left the building for forever,” Ronan said. He moved past Gansey. 

“We should have everyone over,” Gansey touched the windowsill. His fingers cane away clean. He sat down on his bed. “You changed my sheets.”

Ronan poured himself a soda. He wanted a beer but didn’t want to make things bad on the first day Gansey came home. “I know how to do laundry,” Ronan sat down beside Gansey. He offered up peace, “I’ve been sleeping in your bed. I’ll wash the sheets again if you want.” 

Gansey didn’t look surprised by the revelation. “It’s fine.” He pulled out his phone and sent out messages to Blue and Adam. “Have you seen Noah lately?” 

Noah appeared on Ronan’s other side. “I’m here.” 

Ronan did not jump out of his skin but it was a near thing. He elbowed Noah in the ribs. Noah was more substantial today. “Ass.” 

“We’re having a family game night,” Gansey informed Noah. Sometimes he got it in his head that they had to hang out as a group and do normal white people activities. Like something from a television show. Everyone thought it was stupid but no one argued with Gansey. Gansey glanced down at his phone. “They’ll be here soon.” He got up to go prepare to have two more teenagers in their space. 

Noah leaned his head against Ronan’s shoulder. 

Ronan was content to let him. Noah deserved some positive attention. Sometimes. And Ronan would just throw him out the window again when he felt like he had to reassert himself as the hardass of the group. 

“What happened to the photos I took of your wings?” 

“Dunno,” Ronan answered. He had a sneaking suspicion that he _did_ know what had happened to them. Kavinsky was a self proclaimed thief after all. However, admitting to who took the photos would mean admitting that Kavinsky had been in Gansey’s space. “I might have burned them.” 

“Ronan!” Gansey sighed. He shook his head at Ronan like an exasperated mother at her wayward child. “I suppose that it _would_ have been trouble if those got out.” Gansey set up monopoly, of all games, on the floor. They didn’t have adequate seating for five teenagers and a board game. He lamented this the entire time and talked about carving out a space somewhere. The truth was, though it was a big room, most of it was taken up by Gansey himself. His Glendower research, his bed, his model of Henrietta. When there was a knock on their door, Gansey said, “Can you get that, Ronan?” 

Ronan opened the door for Adam and Blue. He had eyes for Adam first; his uneven brown hair and the faded red Coca-Cola shirt he wore. When it came to Adam, Ronan was a mess of feelings. His happiness at seeing Adam again was tempered by both the yellow bruise on Adam’s jaw and the fact that Adam had ghosted him. 

For his part, Adam very clearly looked to see if Ronan had wings. He relaxed a little once he realized that they were gone. His blue eyes met Ronan’s blue eyes. “Glad to have you back.” 

Anger flared up so quickly that Ronan was dizzy with it. “I never fucking left,” Ronan spat back. That was all Adam had to say to him? After ghosting him for weeks? It made Ronan want to hit something. It made him want to drink himself into a dreamless sleep. 

Blue pushed herself between them. She hooked her arm through Ronan’s and physically drug him into the loft. “How was your hunt?” 

“What hunt?” Adam asked. 

“Successful,” Ronan admitted. That was probably safe enough to share. It wasn’t like she knew who he was meeting or why. 

Noah bounced up to them and kissed Blue’s cheek. Then he hooked his arm through Ronan’s other arm and together the two marched Ronan to the space that Gansey had cleared for games. 

Ronan sat down in a circle made up of his friends. They fought over the pieces of the game and the rules. They had fun. None of them knew that this was the spot Kavinsky had cut off Ronan’s wings. They didn’t need to know. Ronan could add it to the growing list of secrets he kept.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you whom are concerned, Kavinsky only put a gun to Ronan's head because all he saw were dark wings and a vaguely humanoid shape. He thought Ronan was a night terror, which is a reasonable thing to assume. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment. It makes me very happy.


End file.
